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Feed Somebody is more than a slogan, it is a way of seeing. During the Christmas season last month somewhere along US 95, I pulled into a grocery store parking lot to drop off a few cans for the local food pantry that I had heard about on my local radio station that was in desperate need.. The desert air smelled like dust and diesel, and the sun was doing its usual Arizona impression of an interrogation lamp.
Inside, it was quiet, the kind of quiet you hear when folks are counting pennies in their heads. A man stood at the checkout with a single can of soup and a handful of coins. His shirt was clean but tired, his eyes even more so. He smiled at the cashier like this was normal, like dinner often came down to exact change.
Feed Somebody: Hear The Voices
He spoke first. “Cold night ahead,” he said, almost cheerful. “Soup will do the trick.” And there it was, Matthew 25 in aisle four. Not a sermon, not a headline, just a man, a can of soup, and the quiet ache of a world that keeps asking us to notice.
I bought a few more cans and left them in the donation bin by the door. On the way out, I saw the same man sitting on the curb, eating his soup straight from the can, steam curling up like a prayer. I wanted to say something clever, something comforting, but all I managed was, “You okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Just needed to feel full for a minute.” The line stayed with me all the way back to Route 66. Full for a minute. We chase big miracles while the small ones sit there, waiting to be handed across a counter. Feeding the hungry is not about saving the world in one sweep, it is about refusing to look away, one person at a time.
Feed Somebody: The Drive Home
Later that night, I stopped at a diner off the highway, half-empty coffee pot, half-tuned jukebox. The waitress looked worn down but smiled anyway. Across the counter, a trucker slid his plate aside and asked for a to-go box, then quietly handed the food to someone outside. No speeches, no applause, just a simple exchange of dignity. Watching that, I realized how ordinary holiness can look when no one’s trying to brand it. Maybe this is what Jesus meant: small kindness multiplied until it fills a nation of empty stomachs and tired hearts.
The truth is simple. When Jesus talked about sheep and goats, He was not dividing pews, He was measuring compassion. Maybe the test is not whether we believed enough, but whether we noticed enough, whether we fed the hungry when we met them in the checkout line, on a cold curb, at the edge of our plans.
Feed Somebody: Why It Matters
Feed Somebody is not charity from on high, it is recognition, a brother, a sister, a mirror. Every sandwich, every grocery drop-off, every spare-dollar coffee you hand to someone shivering on a curb is the gospel with sleeves rolled up. You do not need perfect answers. You need a willing heart, a shopping basket, and the courage to stop.
✨ Roadside Reflection:
If you are looking for a place to start, begin small. Pick up an extra can, ask your local pantry what they need, carry shelf-stable snacks in your car, keep a list of nearby resources. Feed with food, feed with kindness, feed with attention. Hunger takes many forms, love fills them all.
We don’t need a burning bush to hear God speak. Sometimes He’s whispering from the checkout line, or sitting on the curb with a can of soup. Feed somebody. Feed them with food, with kindness, with attention. Because hunger takes many forms—and love, in all its ordinary ways, still fills them all.
For the scripture behind this practice, read Matthew 25:31-46. It is plain enough that even a weary traveler can understand it before the coffee cools.
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Matthew 25:31-46 (reference)